


Before

by Lanyonn



Series: Before & After Universe [Arthur/Eames] [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Idiotic Lovers, Kisses, M/M, Post-Inception, Romance, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 12:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6240187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanyonn/pseuds/Lanyonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Give a man your hand, Arthur thinks, and he will have your throat, ass and everything else that he can take from you. And he is not just talking about what is inside a certain Forger’s pants. He means it metaphorically, philosophically and in every abstract sense of his existence intertwined with Eames’. Post-Inception. Sequel to And After. Might be read as a stand-alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before

 

**Before**

 

It is a sweltering thirty degrees in Mombasa ( _eighty eight_ , Arthur would insist peevishly), made ten degrees hotter by the oppressive March humidity. However, Arthur persistently wears his three piece suits. He is wearing a Brioni Vanquish II today, he had told Eames as he got dressed that morning. Eames had pretended that it means something more to him than gibberish because Arthur can be touchier than his mom during her menopause when it comes to his clothes. He can resist Arthur’s attempts to get him down to a tailor’s who will fashion some ludicrously expensive suit for him. However, as long as the suits are on Arthur, he needs to admire and appreciate the effort.

 

Now Eames actually cares about clothes and shoes and what-not more than any other man he knows. Each item in his wardrobe is handpicked after much deliberation. He bloody loves every single item he owns. However, he doesn’t bother about the brands and big labels. A name means nothing to him – Eames is an artist, a connoisseur of things truly beautiful.

 

However, Arthur is the polar opposite of him. He doesn’t just differentiate the expensive and cheap names, he also has a system of cataloguing the expensive ones into preferences based on a lot of bullshit Eames cannot be bothered to remember even if it is Arthur pronouncing the judgment.

 

If Arthur wasn’t such a bloody American, Eames would definitely mistake him for a posh twat from West End. Eames himself is an East End conman. If Arthur wasn’t an American, they might never have met, he muses with some dismay. It is like being caught between a rock and a hard place. However, American Arthur is a tad better than a Chelsea or Kensington tod who Eames would hook up with only to rob him of his last penny.

 

Or maybe there would have been some sort of miracle at work and Arthur would have been from West End _and_ not been a douche bag. He snorts to himself. Fat chance.

 

Eames stops brooding over Arthur’s alternate life histories as Arthur returns from the basement, bespectacled, pen and a sheaf of papers in hand, reading as he walks. Any doubts he might have had about falling for a West End prick are immediately put to rest. He’d worship the ground Arthur walked on even if he classified people based on the brands of watches they wore. He’d find out which one Arthur thought the best and then steal every last watch of the make so that no one except him ever again wore the watch that Arthur loved.

 

Eames is so fucked.

 

At least Yusuf has an air conditioner installed. Arthur has hung up his coat and his tie has come loose. However, he still has a waistcoat fitted around his torso and alright, Eames has to admit that it is bloody hot how it looks like it hugs his body. Eames wants to be the waistcoat, fitting perfectly around Arthur’s body and making him look so good. He shifts in his chair as he thinks of how wanton Arthur’s moans get when he ties him up and tortures his nipples. If Eames were Arthur’s waistcoat, he would torture his nipples twenty four by seven, seven days a week, the whole year long.

 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” says Yusuf, effectively interrupting Eames’ delectable train of thoughts. Arthur is now sitting at his desk with his back to the entire room but since Eames has his eyes fixed on him, he notices how his back straightens up just a little more. Eames reluctantly tears his hungry eyes away from Arthur and fixes an annoyed look on Yusuf who takes it as his cue to continue. “But what the fuck are _you_ doing here, Eames?”

 

Eames sniffs in distaste. “Here for a job, am I not?” he demands, impatiently swinging around the butterfly slinky in his hand. “Is that what you do? Invite people and then ask them what they’re doing there?”

 

Eames had been surprised when Arthur had told him that he wanted them to fly to Mombasa. There was some interesting Somnacin research Yusuf had come up with and he wanted to observe those experiments for himself.

 

“What?” Arthur had asked, looking at his expression. “I thought you liked Mombasa.”

 

“Of course, I’d love to accompany you to Mombasa, darling,” Eames had told him, kissing his hand. “I’m just surprised you are BFFs with Yusuf there.”

 

Arthur had laughed and caressed his lips. Arthur won’t admit it but he always melted when Eames kissed his fingers. “I’m not BFFs with Yusuf, Eames, don’t be stupid. I’d really just like to check out the experiment. It will just be a few days. I know March isn’t the best month for visiting Kenya but treat it like a vacation? I’ll work in the day and then we can just have fun the rest of the time.”

 

“There’s not much fun we can have wandering around Mombasa, love,” Eames had replied seriously.

 

Arthur had grinned wickedly and pulled back his hand from Eames. He had slid it down to Eames’ crotch to start round three. “Who says I’m going to let you out of the hotel room to have fun?”

 

Yusuf scoffs and the aggravating sound once again pulls Eames away from much pleasanter thoughts. “I didn’t _invite_ anyone. Arthur invited himself. I was confused when he said you would be coming as well. I thought that was for some actual work. But you have just been sitting here doing nothing for three days straight. So, what the fuck is going on?”

 

Arthur’s back is ramrod rigid now. Eames cannot see his face but he can imagine his expression. He puts down the slinky, gets up and walks over to Arthur’s chair. Arthur glances up at him. Eames brushes the back of his fingers over Arthur’s cheek. He is not always fond of the stern way in which Arthur always gels back his hair but it is rather engaging sometimes. Times like right now when he is apprehensive and worried and relying on Eames to do something even though he is the perfect point man who always like to take charge.

 

Eames rests his hand on the side of Arthur’s neck and looks at Yusuf. “Well, we’re a team, Arthur and I. You get either both of us or neither of us.”

 

Yusuf, dumb Yusuf still hasn’t caught on. “That’s all good but that still doesn’t explain why you’re just sitting around scaring my customers instead of helping Arthur out then? Not that I expect you to understand even a symbol of any chemical reaction or perform any calculations even with the help of a computer.”

 

Eames sighs and looks down at Arthur again. He grasps his shoulder firmly and hauls him out of his chair. That isn’t easy but he has caught Arthur off guard. Before Arthur can catch on, he leans down and presses his lips firmly to Arthur’s lips. For a moment, Arthur is unresponsive but then he can feel the tension leave his body and he kisses Eames back softly, the way he does when he is all fucked out and loose-limbed but he still can’t get enough of Eames so he keeps kissing him till he falls asleep with his face close against Eames’.

 

“Oh,” says Yusuf, when the kiss breaks. Arthur gives Eames a secret smile before returning to his work. Eames turns his attention to Yusuf. “Oh – you meant you’re like a _tag_ team.” Eames cringes. “Well, I see, well,” Yusuf clears his throat without reason, “that makes sense then. Just – be careful. That can land you in prison here. This isn’t your England or America.”

 

“Of course, we’ll be careful,” Eames says primly. “But that isn’t going to change anything between us.”

 

“Yeah, I get that,” Yusuf says, pretty comfortable for a man who has just watched two of his mates making out. He looks between Arthur and Eames a few times and Eames knows that there’s more coming. “So, how long has it been going on?”

 

“Years,” replies Eames fondly, finally liking one of Yusuf’s questions. “The first time Arthur met me, he fell asleep on top of me. It was love at first sight.”

 

Arthur snorts and feels compelled to join the discussion. “So he says.”

 

“It was,” gushes Eames, his fingers caressing Arthur’s neck. “We had been recruited for the same job in London. And since I’m not a fan of the tube, I decided to board a bus –”

 

“The bus was on a more sensible route than the tube stations,” supplies Arthur. “Anyone would have taken the bus.”

 

Eames continues as if Arthur hasn’t spoken. “And just as I get on, what do I see? The only free seat is next to our lovely Arthur’s here.”

 

“It wasn’t,” insists Arthur. “The bus was practically empty. He intentionally came and sat down next to me.”

 

“Since we’ve got a long way ahead of us, I think of making some conversation. However, Arthur is probably tired form the journey so he falls asleep, putting his head on my shoulder and clinging to me all the way.”

 

Arthur turns and his are cheeks slightly pink as he glares at Eames. “I did _not_. You were being obnoxious. I put the earphones in my ear and turned on the music in my phone to ignore you. But the music made me drowsy.”

 

Eames grins down at Arthur and touches his thumb to his lips. “But you did have your head on my shoulder, darling, and your arms around me. Do you deny that?”

 

Arthur gives Eames a hard look and turns away again, red to the tips of his ear.

 

“Well, so there you are,” he gloats as he looks at Yusuf again, who is still listening to Eames and Arthur without the slightest flinching or squirming. “I reach my destination and I have to wake up Sleeping Beauty. Imagine my surprise when I realise that we were headed for the same place. It is fated, I thought. And it was,” he finishes with a self-satisfied smirk.

 

Later, after he has showered and returned to the bedroom where Eames has ordered some local chicken and vegetable preparations and produced a bottle from Krug’s private cuvée out of nowhere, Arthur has questions for Eames.

 

“Are you telling the truth about it?” he asks Eames as he holds the bottle of champagne as if he cannot believe his eyes.

 

“The bottle, darling?” Eames questions, a little confused, “I did not forge it, if that is what you are suspecting. It was bloody expensive – too expensive to be tacky, honestly. I hope this isn’t one of the tacky ones.” Eames might have issues with Arthur’s West End behaviour but he still goes to crazy lengths trying to please Arthur with the sort of things he likes.

 

“It isn’t tacky at all,” Arthur replies and pours out some reverently. He gazes at it in wonder but doesn’t lift up the glass immediately. Instead, he walks over to Eames, takes his face in his hands and kisses him long and deep. _This_ , this right here is the reason why Eames indulges those posh boy fancies with the Baloney Vanquish II suits and the sort of champagne which empties out his retirement fund. Not that it really emptied out his retirement fund but it would have if he was a regular bloke back at East End.

 

However, when it comes down to it, Arthur doesn’t care about his suits and wines and caviar. No, he is so delighted by Eames going along with his little fantasies that he abandons everything and throws himself at Eames, forgets every reason that has made him happy except Eames. Someday, Eames will convert Arthur to his less pricey East End ways. But for now, he will just bask in the beaming happiness radiating off Arthur as he forgets to even taste the champagne and instead opts for kissing Eames over and over and hugging him hard and close.

 

“I didn’t ask about the Krug, Eames,” he whispers as he looks into Eames’ eyes. “I was asking about what you keep telling everyone – did I really fall asleep on you like that back then? I know I woke up like that but wasn’t that some manoeuvring on your part?”

 

Eames looks at him indignantly. “Why would I manoeuvre something like that? No, it was all you. I won’t tell people false tales about our love at first sight, sweetheart.” His arms gather Arthur more protectively. “I might embellish a detail or two but otherwise, it is the gospel truth.”

 

A troubled look passes over Arthur’s face.

 

“What?” Eames asks in a heartbeat. Then something hits him. “Wasn’t it love at first sight for you? I – I presumed...” he falters. Well, what does it matter if it wasn’t the same for Arthur? What matters is what they have now – and it is bloody wonderful what they have now.

 

Arthur worries his lower lip before exhaling and burying his face in Eames’ neck. “Promise me it won’t change anything if I tell you the truth. I know how you love your story. But it is just a story, okay? It doesn’t matter if it is the complete truth or not.”

 

A heavy weight settles in Eames’ stomach. Of course, of course that was why Arthur was so flustered every time Eames boasted about it. So yeah, they had been on and off for five years till finally Arthur stopped running away from him once the inception job was over. But Eames had always known that it would end like that – that no matter how Arthur tried to escape him, one day he would give in and admit that from that first moment, there had been that spark...

 

Eames tries not to be too devastated. This is what Arthur is like. He doesn’t do implausible things like falling in love at first sight. He likes expensive labels and brands and has mental catalogues. Eames has won him over fair and square with his effort. Arthur belongs to him now. Even if it wasn’t love at first sight, it is a wonderful, amazing love now.

 

“It is alright, pet,” he says, rubbing Arthur’s back, placating Arthur even though it is his heart which feels like it is cracking slowly. “Just tell me the truth. I’d rather know the truth from you than believe a lie, love. I mean it.”

 

He meant it.

 

Arthur holds on to Eames tighter, as if he can feel the sadness in Eames’ heart even though Eames tries his best to keep it out of his voice.

 

“That day in bus,” Arthur says against Eames’ neck, “that wasn’t the first time I saw you.”

 

He pauses, afraid. It is as well. Eames needs time to process that. “It... wasn’t?” he prompts at last, all melancholy quickly evaporating to bizarre confusion. “But, darling, I swear I’d never seen you before. I would _remember_...”

 

“On the plane from Morocco to London,” says Arthur, his fingers grasping fistfuls of Eames’ shirt and Eames is startled to hear that Arthur sounds close to tears. “That’s where I saw you first. You were one of the last people who boarded the plane. And you were so beautiful. So yeah, it was love at first sight – but for me, it was... it wasn’t the bus. It was the plane. I had a window seat and the aisle seat next to me was still empty. I hoped so, so hard that you were the passenger who would be travelling with me. You didn’t notice me, of course. You were busy frowning at your ticket. But then you stopped at the empty seat next to me and I turned my face away, I was feeling so stupid for falling for a complete stranger like that at first look.

 

“But then some old man ambled in and told you to move along because you were blocking his seat. And then a hostess came and showed you to your actual seat which was like, right at the opposite end. I felt so stupid, Eames. All the flight, I wanted to go up to you and talk to you but I was headed for an illegal extraction job and you seemed like a normal businessman. I couldn’t risk exposing my identity and it tore my heart when I watched you leave the airport, thinking I’d never see you again.

 

“I couldn’t sleep all night even after the long flight and I was so exhausted. But then there you were, walking down the bus towards me and I had to check over and over if this wasn’t a dream. It didn’t seem like it was but I was just so confused about why you were there and relieved that you were because that seemed like fate to me, you know. And – yeah, yeah, I think I might have wanted to touch you so bad and given in to the urge when I got drowsy enough.

 

“But... but it wasn’t the first time. Not like it was for you,” finishes Arthur, his voice strained.

 

Eames is silent for so long that Arthur has to lift his face from Eames’ neck at last. He hazards a look at him, fearing what he might see.

 

Eames is looking at him in wonder, absolutely mesmerised, a sort of very happy stupid expression on his face.

 

Arthur chokes a little as he chuckles and cups Eames cheek. “I take it you’re not mad at me, then?” he asks.

 

“ _Darling_ ,” rasps out Eames, his rough voice hoarser with emotion. His grip on Arthur’s body tightens so much, Arthur can’t breathe. But Arthur would rather have that than Eames turning away. “ _Darling_ , I can’t believe... all along... you never told me... you _should_ have told me... oh, _darling_! Oh, _my love_!”

 

It must be the first time Arthur has rendered Eames incoherent. He laughs more and kisses Eames over and over again, the soft, poignant kisses he reserves for the special moments like the time he had kissed Eames in the hospital in front of every bloody person there because Eames had regained consciousness after being shot in the chest. It wasn’t even the chest – it was more like the shoulder. Eames had probably passed out from shock rather than any actual internal damage. But Arthur had kissed him and kissed him like it was not kissing but praying, pouring out his feelings in every single touch of their lips.

 

When they finally get around to drinking some of the Krug after a heated and passionate session of love making, Eames lies across Arthur’s lap and looks up at him as if he has fallen in love with him all over again.

 

“You know, on second thoughts, I am rather happy you didn’t reveal our true love story to me before, Arthur,” he says, lifting a hand to caress Arthur’s chin. “Now we can have a true version we keep to ourselves and a modified one we tell the world.”

 

Arthur laughs and puts aside his glass. He bends down and kisses Eames thoroughly. “You’re such a ridiculous man,” he tells Eames, putting his hand in Eames.

 

“And you love me for it,” Eames grins up at him, all endearing crooked teeth and plush lips, as he brings Arthur’s fingers to his lips.

 

“I love you for it,” Arthur agrees, melting completely as Eames presses kisses to his fingers, “since the first moment I saw you – and I will love you till my last breath.”

 

 

**_finis_ **


End file.
